


Taking The Risk

by digthewriter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Post-War, Angst, Denial, F/M, HP: EWE, Happy Ending, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Post-War, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-08 21:51:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6875023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digthewriter/pseuds/digthewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>His hands are in hers and she’s looking up at him, smiling. There’s just something about this man and she can’t help herself.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking The Risk

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, first of all...my first HET story, EVER. 
> 
> Written for the SUMMER 2016 WISHLIST EVENT at [rarepair_shorts](http://rarepair-shorts.livejournal.com/) on livejournal. Prompt by **sirmioneforever**. Unbetaed. 
> 
> **Disclaimer** : Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

She wakes up feeling unusually warm, given the fact that she doesn’t have any clothes on. 

_Wait. Why am I naked_? 

Hermione shifts in the unfamiliar bed, under unfamiliar cotton sheets with a man she’s far too familiar with. His face is hidden by his hair but she’d very well know Sirius Black anywhere. How much had they had to drink last night? 

Nothing. They’d not had anything. Except for coffee. 

Sirius had invited her out for coffee, which had turned into dinner, a long walk, and then an Apparition to the hotel room Sirius had reserved for them. She still finds it insufferable he’d assumed she’d want to go home with him, which she, of course, did. 

She’s just glad this isn’t Grimmauld Place and she won’t run into Harry on her way out. 

As silently as possible, Hermione wiggles out of the bed and immediately places a silencing charm on her person. She doesn’t want to wake Sirius up, and make this even more awkward than it already is. Besides, a few more suggestions from him and she’d be back in that bed, she’s sure. 

When she’s just about ready to leave, Sirius shifts in the bed. She chances a look at him and he’s staring right at her. Well then, so much for leaving with dignity. 

“Why are you going?” he asks, without even batting an eyelash. 

“Look, Sirius, this was a—” _Mistake? Really, Hermione, that’s what you want to say?_ Sirius is nearly two decades older than her and not to mention her best friend’s godfather, even if he doesn’t look like it. He’s cleaned up after the war, got a proper haircut and looks just as about Pureblood prestigious without even trying. Of course, she’d never tell him this, or he’d throw a fit about it. Maybe that’s what she’s liked about him; he’s simply full of contradictions.

Most Gryffindors are. 

“It was fun,” Sirius says, finishing the sentence for her. 

“Right. It was. But…not a good idea. For many reasons.” 

“Then why did you say yes to coming over?” he asks and she’s about to reply when he speaks again. “You can’t blame the alcohol. When we’d kissed, you’d blamed the wine, and last night I’d made sure we didn’t have anything other than those Muggle fizzy drinks. As good as they are, I’m certain they actually don’t impair your judgement.” 

He’d made sure they didn’t drink? Bloody hell. 

“Listen, I’ve got to go. I’ve got a cat and other…responsibilities,” she says and puts on her coat without glancing at Sirius again. A moment later, she’s Disapparated.

*-*-*-*

When Hermione arrives at her flat, Crookshanks is happy to see her. She sags on the sofa in relief and throws her elbow over her eyes to keep them shut. She takes a deep breath in and wonders what’s the scent she’s just taken in. She takes a whiff of her arm… _Oh for Merlin’s sake_! She smells like him. _Her clothes_ smell like him.

Flashbacks of the night before pass in front of her eyes and now it’s too much. How could she have let herself get so far? Hermione’s always in control, and with Sirius Black, she’d lost it all. 

Hoping her mind would come to its senses soon, she chucks off her clothes, throws them in the laundry, and heads over for the shower. Thank goodness, it’s Sunday, and she doesn’t have to be anywhere. Her dinner plans with her parents have been postponed until next week and today she can just relax. She doesn’t want to waste her day relaxing in bed, so she has to make a plan to go out. Maybe a bookshop to pick up something new, and boring, and nothing that’d remind her of her night with Sirius Black, is the best bet.

*-*-*-*

After filling up her cat’s bowl with dinner, she’s on her way out to Diagon Alley. When she’s just about ready to take the Floo, there’s a knock on her front door.

Hermione has no idea who’d call on her on Sunday, and the Muggle way, so she goes to answer it. Of course, it’s him. If he’d fire-called, she could have ignored it. But now, Sirius is standing there with his hair tied back neatly, his facial hair trimmed slightly, and he’s wearing a pressed white shirt with dark blue Muggle jeans and a black blazer. He doesn’t look like her best friend’s godfather; he doesn’t look anything like a man who is supposed to be twenty years her senior… he looks bloody well _divine_. There’s a slight chance she’s lost the feeling in her knees, but Hermione manages to keep herself upright and not completely fall over. 

“Going somewhere?” he asks. 

“Yes. Out,” she replies. 

“Mind if I come in first?” 

She gets out of the way and allows him to enter. She has nosy neighbours and the last thing she needs is one of them going to a _Prophet_ reporter with a bit of gossip. 

He’s walking around her flat aimlessly and eventually stops at the pictures framed on the mantel. He’s looking at, dare she say admiring, a picture of Hermione and Harry at Ginny and Gabrielle’s wedding. It was last summer and Hermione remembers that day very well. It was the first time she’d danced with Sirius, and wanted to kiss him. 

Kind of like how she wants to kiss him now. 

“What is it that you want, Sirius?” she asks, when she can no longer take the silence and the tension filling her flat. 

“I think we’ve been doing this song and dance for far too long, Hermione. Don’t you?” 

“I don’t know what you mean?” 

“I’ve admired you for a while, and you’ve grown up to be a remarkable woman. I’ve never hidden my intentions with you. I don’t treat you poorly, I hope not—and even Harry is okay with me pursuing—”

“You’ve told Harry?” 

“I told him how I feel and he’s happy with my decision to want to see you. I want to see you, Hermione. And I know you like me. You can’t spend the night with me, the way you did, and deny there isn’t something here. I just don’t understand why you are so set against it?” 

“I don’t want to lose another friend,” she says, finally. Giving into her anxiety and confessing her fears. “After Ron—”

“Ah. I see,” he says, and takes a step closer to her. “I didn’t consider you to be the type that doesn’t take risks.” 

“Only calculated risks,” she replies. His hands are in hers and she’s looking up at him, smiling. There’s just something about this man and she can’t help herself. Bloody hell, it’s going to happen again and she can feel it. 

“I’m worth the risk,” he says, in that nonchalance way of his that has all the women trembling for him; begging for his attention. And now she sees it. He doesn’t give any of them the kind of attention he’s giving Hermione. 

“I’m beginning to see that,” she says. 

“Well then…” he says in a haughty voice and she has to force herself in not rolling her eyes. 

He squeezes her hand and releases it and before he can get away, she grabs him by his wrist. She laces her fingers with his and decides to take the risk. Leading him to her bedroom, Hermione closes the door behind them. 

A Sunday in bed, after all, isn’t such a bad way to spend the day.


End file.
